Becoming a good person: a horror story.

I have been thinking lately how my attitude towards others and the planet as a whole has changed. I am more conscious about the environment and am currently trying to get my family as plastic free as humanely possible without losing even more of my sanity. I go out of my way to compliment a stranger, to help out a fellow mom.

Ya’ll, I have a love/hate relationship with people. I go from “hang out with me” to “fuck off leave me alone” like a beer pong ball. I love my kids but don’t like other people’s. And if you don’t use your blinker in traffic- holy shit I go bananas.

But it’s been my mission lately to spread love around as much as possible. To be nice to people (mostly). To be less judgy to other moms and help them out.

Why am I like this?! Who am I?! I really do blame my therapist for this. She’s corrupting me. I like the disgruntled me, we have a long standing relationship and you can’t make me break up with her!

I think getting control of my anxiety was the catalyst. But I think the bigger answer is that happier people spread happiness to others. We all know those people who are totally miserable, and they make you feel terrible just by being around them. I am not happy go lucky all the time, quite the opposite in fact. Between the hurricane, closing getting delayed on the sale of our house, and totally uprooting our family to move temporarily while we build our house- I have been stressed the fuck out. I cry a lot. I am short tempered and say nasty things to Dading out of frustration. But OVERALL, I am a happy person compared to where I was before I starting talking to someone about my mental health. And I think that’s why I have more patience for others, feel like I can invest the time in other people. Probably a big part of that is that I am learning WHERE to invest my time and WHO is worth that time, which keeps me from burning out.

Maybe it’s part of being in your 30’s? Maybe it’s because the world is full of people in power who are horrible, and it makes me feel like I have to resist the man, figuratively and literally. Or, more likely, it’s a combination of all of the above. All I know is that it’s kind of a nice feeling (don’t look at me, I feel dirty). I feel better about me when I make time for someone else who deserves it or needs it.

Be nice to someone who could use it. Guaranteed it makes you feel better about yourself, and have a little more faith in humanity. This does not apply to shitty drivers- I hope a pterodactyl peppers your windshield. Or telemarketers. It’s important to have standards.